The Billionaires’ Prize (The Heiress Merger #2)

25. Kingston/Alex

25

KINGSTON/ALEX

KINGSTON

Kingston

Momma fixed one of Katherine’s favorites for dessert. Salted caramel tiramisu. I love that Momma still muscles her way past their chef to bake her favorite things.

Katherine’s smile is worth it. It’s worth everything.

“This looks amazing.” She waves her hand over the plate, wafting the scent toward her. “Oh my god. And it smells amazing.”

She’s not wrong. I spear a forkful and shove it into my mouth, stifling a groan.

“Mom’s still got it.”

Katherine’s blissed out on chocolate and caramel when my father finally drops the bomb. But not the one I was waiting for.

“So when are you going to leave banking behind and come work for us?” he asks.

Katherine puts her fork down, wipes her mouth, and gives a light laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”

There’s a mile of truth and pain in those three little words, but it’s the exhaustion beneath them that makes me want to physically drag her away from Chanler & Cort.

“I don’t think they’re joking, Wildfire,” I say under my breath and wave off the butler, who offers to refill my glass. We’re winding down, and I want a clear head for this conversation.

“Of course, we’re not joking.”

Puzzlement and curiosity flicker across Katherine’s face. She really is tempted. Would I love for her to work in my family’s company? Absolutely. And yes, I see the irony of me wanting nothing—okay, almost nothing—to do with the business while pushing for her to join the team.

But she’s talented in ways that I’m not. She doesn’t have my hangups. She doesn’t cringe every time she sees a spreadsheet. My business-minded brainiac.

I stretch, draping my arm over the back of her chair. Mom raises a brow but doesn’t comment. I can see the smirk behind her teacup. I’m so getting grilled about this later. In fact, I expect my text messages to blow up two minutes after we leave.

Katherine shoots me a questioning smile and I return a confident one. The more I think about it, the more I like this plan.

Would she be interested in a career change? Would she ever leave her family’s business? Is it selfish to want more of her time, to bind her to me in all ways?

Of course it is.

And I don’t fucking care.

I trail my thumb up the back of her neck and give her a ‘you ready to go’ eyebrow raise.

“Just keep us in mind,” Momma says, “if you ever want to switch things up.”

Alex

Fury boils through my veins like lava.

“She probably has no idea,” Gabe murmurs. We’re parked across from the stately brownstone, where I watch the shadows, looking for photographers. A snooping passer-bye. The fucker controlling the drone that took pictures of Katherine and Kingston while they were on the rooftop deck. I’m looking for anyone who shouldn’t be here.

"Probably not," I agree.

I ducked out of a meeting as soon as I got word about the latest photos and picked Gabe up on the way to Kingston’s parents’ place. I’d also sent two more of my team to help Roman in case he needed crowd control.

The sidewalks are blessedly quiet, so I decided not to ruin her dinner date with King and his parents. But my chest is tight with unease.

They looked cozy up on the roof, her hand on his thigh. The drone couldn’t capture their faces because it was pretty dark up there, but it’s obvious who they are thanks to the cell phone shots of them entering the home half an hour earlier. I hope the paps don’t dig deeper and find out who lives here.

I should be used to this by now. The lack of privacy. But it hits different when it’s someone I care about. Someone as innocent and reserved as Katherine.

She doesn’t seek the limelight. She shies away from it. She’s not out there partying, parading in front of photographers hoping to get her picture in the paper, and I love that about her.

So what the hell was Kingston thinking? Taking her outside, unprotected, where prying eyes could see.

There’s movement behind the sidelight windows.

“Here we go,” I mutter. Gabe tenses in the passenger’s seat.

The heavy-looking front door opens, and golden light pours out.

We reach for the Rover’s door handles at the same time. “Stay here.” The order’s out before I can stop it.

“Why?” he quizzes, hand falling away.

I don’t have time to explain how I don’t want pictures of the four of us together. Or that he’s also a target. I ignore the pinched expression on Gabe’s face and slide out of the driver’s seat, merging with the night.

Roman’s there, blocking any potential photographs as he quietly fills Katherine in before she even steps foot onto the stoop.

I cross the street, meeting King’s glance over her head. His brows lift as he looks around, instantly on alert. He moves closer to her, sliding an arm around her waist while lifting a hand to wave goodbye to his parents.

They hurry down the steps and I fall into step with them, Roman on the other side, our other two guys in front and back.

“We’re taking my car,” I say, ushering the pair across the street and into the back seat.

Once they’re safely in the Rover, I do a quick survey of our surroundings. Gabe frowns as I slide behind the wheel, but I’ll deal with him and his hurt feelings later. At least he listened, which is more than I can say for around half of my clients.

Katherine and Kingston buckle up. In the rearview mirror, I see Roman sliding behind the wheel of his SUV and pulling onto the road, waiting for me to do the same.

“What happened?” Katherine asks.

I step on the gas, maneuvering the vehicle with ease. Traffic’s blessedly light in this part of the city, but I have no doubt the vultures will be waiting for us.

“Someone saw the two of you, took a pic, and posted it to social media,” I say.

“At which point,” Gabe continues, half turning in his seat to look at her. “Some asshole with a drone?—”

“No!” The word is somewhere between a gasp and a choke.

Kingston grumbles, and I see a flash of a screen as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Katherine sucks in a sharp breath, and my attention swerves to her.

“Now is not the time, King,” she says, her voice sharper than I’ve heard in days.

“Time for—” Gabe chimes in, as clueless as I am.

“Sorry. I was closing the app,” King murmurs. Then explains, “I bought her a wireless vibe.”

Gabe’s head turns so quickly, he probably gave himself whiplash. “You’re wearing it?”

Katherine presses deeper into her seat, a little moan bubbling up her throat.

“You okay, Katie Bird?”

I brake for a stoplight and glance at her in the rearview mirror. She nods, but clearly, it’s on right now, teasing her.

“Give me that thing,” she grinds out, reaching for King’s phone.

“Don’t turn it off,” Gabe says, and her hand falls back.

“What?” She sounds breathless and incredulous, probably the sexiest combination I’ve ever heard. Like she can’t quite believe her ears and is both cursing and blessing him.

Fuck. Green light. I need to pay attention to the road, not the gorgeous woman writhing in my backseat.

“Can I see that?” Gabe asks, hand stretched toward King.

“Don’t you dare. You promised.”

“Wildfire, I promised not to use it on you while we were in the car with Roman?—”

The mention of my employee pulls a snarl from my chest. “Damn straight.”

She slumps lower in the seat, a low moan filling the cab. Fuck, she makes me hard. My hands flex into the supple leather of the steering wheel.

“Is this what you were up to on that roof?” I ask.

“Kingston!” It’s like it just occurred to her that we were in the middle of a conversation. That there are new pictures of her on the internet. And apparently, she’s wearing a vibrator.

“Don’t worry, Princess. The drone didn’t catch your faces.”

“What—” She presses her head back against the seat. “Oh god. Show me.”

“I was trying to—” King says.

“Don’t stop,” Katherine whimpers.

“Here.” Gabe pulls out his own phone, navigates to the picture, and hands it back.

“Take this,” Kingston says, handing over his phone. “She likes it when you increase the purple meter.”

We hit another freaking red light, and I glance in the rearview mirror to see Roman on our bumper. There’s no sign of the paps, but who knows when they’ll pop up again. Like roaches. For all I know, the drone could be overhead right now, breaking who knows how many laws.

“Oh my?—”

I hear her hand slap the ceiling. She reaches for the grab handle.

“Mmhmm. Don’t stop.”

“I thought you didn’t want us using this,” Gabe teases. His voice is deeper than normal and full of mischief. God, he makes me sweat with his antics. Such a troublemaker.

“Gabe—” Her breath catches.

The light turns green, and I hit the gas, hard.

She whimpers. Kingston unclips his seatbelt and slides across the leather to her, wrapping her in his arms.

I can’t quite make out what he says to her, but I can guess.

The traffic thickens as we get closer to our apartment. My muscles tighten with every passing block. This is the wildest kind of torture, having to be alert and watch my back, keep my precious cargo safe while at the same time wanting to curl up around said precious cargo.

I don’t know if Gabe does something with the vibe or if Kingston decides to help out, but Katherine cries out. A long, throaty sound that spikes my need and makes my cock weep.

“Fuck, Princess. You’re stunning when you come.”

She gives a lusty moan, leaning into the circle of Kingston’s arms, eyes closed with bliss.

Several minutes of silence tick by. I keep glancing back, checking on her.

“Show me,” she whispers.

We hit another red light, and I glance around for anything out of the ordinary. Only then do I return my attention to Katherine. Her face is turned toward King, ducked as she looks at the pictures. She twists her lips and hands the phone back to him, resigned.

Fucking vultures.

We’re two blocks away when she straightens, spine tall, and looks out the window. And just like that, the Ice Queen is back. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s clear that she’s teeming with emotion even as she reassembles the cool armor she’s developed to keep herself safe.

I swear I see the shimmer of tears in her eyes as we pass beneath a streetlight.

The guys have fallen silent, everyone turning to their own thoughts. I fucking hate this. She didn’t sign up for it.

“I think we should stay away from each other,” she says, her words tumbling through the cab like a wrecking ball. “It’s the only solution I can think of because they’re not going to stop.”

She sounds one breath away from panic. Her pretty eyes plead with me in the rearview mirror. I know she wants me to agree with her, to take the easy way out and smooth all this over like it never happened.

“Wildfire, no.”

“We’re like a freak show, King. Look at the billionaires,” she says, her voice high and sing-songy.

The silence grows tense.

I swerve into the parking deck, jamming my finger repeatedly against the button to lift the gate. Roman’s SUV stops at the street level, and I breathe a sigh of relief knowing he’ll handle whatever goes on out there.

But in here. . . it feels like my world as I know it is ending.